


This Fisherman's Wish

by audreywinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Break Up, Destiel - Freeform, Homosexuality, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:45:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1680347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audreywinchester/pseuds/audreywinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is a fisherman in a small, coastal town in Maine. He works and lives in solitude until one day a fishing partner is thrust upon him. Castiel is secretive about his mysterious past, but as they work side by side on the boat, Dean begins to unravel the truth about the strange man and finds himself unusually drawn to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fisherman

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at fan fiction so it isn't the best. I would love any feedback (negative or positive) and plan on posting regularly. I hope you enjoy as it goes on:)  
> Disclaimer: I know nothing about fishing/fishing boats so anything inaccurate is unintentional and out of ignorance due to a lack of resources regarding the inner workings of the commercial fishing industry.

The sun rose sun rose gradually over the horizon, reddish-orange beams stretched their lazy arms illuminating the new morning in slow, painted beauty across the sky. The brilliant colors reflected almost blindingly off the waves of the ocean. Dean Winchester stopped what he was doing to stretch his tired muscles and yawn, taking a moment to appreciate the beauty of it. He had been raised on fishing boats and had probably seen a thousand of these Maine sunrises, but they always sent joy shooting through his heart, momentarily displacing his typical moodiness.

He glumly remembered the task at hand and turned back to setting the traps and nets before throwing them over the edge of his boat. They splashed into the frigid water and Dean watched them until he could no longer see them through the murk, checking with a trained eye for tangles or snarls. His face was set in an almost permanent scowl as he worked alone on his boat, affectionately christened as _Baby_ (a name that often evoked teases from fellow fisherman). Dean had inherited _Baby_ from his father when he passed- an event Dean often repressed through copious amounts of alcohol and a determined work ethic that verged on unhealthy.

Just as the sun began softening its light to signal the close of the day, Dean pulled into the delivery dock where he would unload his catch for the day to be weighed before he was paid. He was under contract of Novak Fishing Company and anything Dean caught he had to sell to the company, though often begrudgingly. The owner was a dick who looked down on fishermen- though he never complained about the profit gained from their labors- and sometimes even cut his prices just to spite them.

Dean had finished up early so there wasn’t a line to drop off when he got there. After carefully maneuvering into place, he got out of the pilot’s cab and had to repress a groan when he saw the well-dressed man standing on the dock, keenly analyzing his boat.

Michael Novak, the owner of Novak Fishing Company, standing in an immaculate suit, hair perfectly coiffed, but the attractive look was ruined by his predatory stance and cold eyes. Despite lifelong heterosexual tendencies, Dean had to admit he found guys attractive, but Michael Novak was more scary than appealing. It didn’t help that the man controlled his all-important paycheck. Dean noticed some of the dock workers pointedly avoiding getting too close to Michael as they worked.

“Dean Winchester.” Michael said, not taking his eyes off the boat. “You still don’t take time to clean your boat, I see.” Dean clenched his jaw, but ignored the sleight. _How dare he insult Baby like that?_ he thought murderously. He focused intensely on attaching a hook to the top of one of his baskets of catch. He signaled the man running the crane. With a creaking noise the crane winched up the basket of fish, streaming sea water back into the fish box. The crane shifted the basket over to the scale, where the fish were dumped and the weight recorded. A splash of water landed on Michael’s shoulder and he flicked it off with disdain.

“And you also have not gained any manners when it comes to speaking to superiors.” Michael’s voice was edging on venomous and made Dean nervous. He paused after hooking up the next basket and waited for Michael’s next words. “Listen the silent treatment isn’t going to make me go away, Winchester. I’m sure you guessed I’m not here to invite you to crack a cold one and watch a game.” Dean nodded, but maintained silence. “How do you like working by yourself?” Michael asked after a terse silence, taking Dean by surprise.

“I manage fine.” Dean replied. He anxiously picked at the thick sweater he wore under his black rain slicker, wishing the man would get to his point already.

“I remember you used to fish with your dad,” Michael continued on what Dean sensed was a rehearsed speech. And no shit he would remember that. Michael was barely older than Dean and this town’s high school was small enough that everyone knew everyone’s business. Although the Novaks had managed to keep their lives fairly private, every kid besides Michael attending private schools in Connecticut. “And I thought you might benefit from having someone to help you out. You know, lighten the load.”

Dean couldn’t help but squint in suspicion. “I don’t think that will be necessary.” He attached the hook on the last basket and began cleaning up the boat. “I work best alone.” It was true. Dean worked almost an hour less than most of the other guys and still got a better haul, even on off days. He took pride in what he did and strove to do it well.

“I was afraid you would say that.” Michael ran a hand down his face, revealing weariness that had been hidden behind a mask of wealth and decorum. The mask swiftly went back up. “The thing is, we have an extra… how to put this… indispensable set of hands that need a place to go. You’re the only one of our contracts that works alone. He can start tomorrow, but you’ll have to teach him. Where does he need to go?”

Dean scratched the stubbly new-growth hairs on his chin while contemplating the situation. He didn’t want some greenhorn ruining the solo gig he had going- especially when the rube was being forced onto him- but he knew it would make things easier. “What’s the arrangement for pay?” Dean asked. “I can’t fund this out-of-pocket.”

“I’ll handle the finances and you keep an eye on him. All you have to do is keep him alive on this dinky little excuse for a boat for a few months out of the year.” Michael shrugged as if he was surrendering to Dean the deal of a lifetime.

Dean bristled at the sleight, but moved on. “So this is long term?” The man was irritatingly persuasive and Dean knew he had lost this fight before it even began.

“If things work out.” Michael said nonchalantly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a smart phone, which he promptly began to vigorously type a message on. Dean felt the conversation coming to a close. “Where and when does he need to meet you?”

“Haven Park Marina, four thirty sharp.” Dean grumbled, unsatisfied with the new, unbidden addition to his crew. The man’s eyes unglued from the screen for a fraction of a second to acknowledge he had heard before turning and heading down the dock. Dock workers split like the Red Sea before him and Dean watched as he climbed into a brand spanking new BMW before speeding off.

Dean collected his pay for the fish and took back to open water, heading to the docks where he kept _Baby_ at night and on off-weekends. After mooring her and doing the nightly ablutions to the engine that keep it running smoothing, Dean climbed in his red Chevrolet truck and drove home to his empty house, bypassing the local bar where fisherman usually wiled away the nights after work. With Sam away at college, nights were usually lonely, but Dean chose to drown out the quiet of the house with the sound of TV. He sat down in front of some game show, beer in hand, not absorbing anything. His mind wandered away from the obnoxious host and over-eager competitors to the next day and he begrudged the thought of sharing his home turf with a newbie.

His boat had been a personal sanctum ever since he had inherited it and began fishing alone. Mixed emotions from the past roiled inside as Dean happy memories were crushed by the not-so-happy ones. The ones where John Winchester had drunk one too many. Where his father had released pent up emotion- whether it be stress from trying to provide for his sons, grief from the loss of his wife, Mary, or his team losing. John always found a reason for anger at Dean.

Suddenly Dean found his third beer tasted bitter. He turned off the television before dumping the rest down the sink and throwing it with unnecessary force into the recycling. It shattered and Dean mumbled, “Shit.”

But he trudged up the stairs and away from the mess to his bed room. He stripped to his boxers and fell into his memory foam bed with a heavy sigh. Ignoring prickly and unsettling thoughts, Dean fell into a restless sleep.

He tossed and turned, grappling with his comforter. He had a vivid dream that he was fishing during a storm, when suddenly his mother climbed out of the lower cabin. She was wearing a night gown and singing Hey Jude in the soft, loving voice Dean could never forget from her nightly lullabies. A wave pitched the boat and Dean shouted hoarsely as he watched Mary get tossed off the boat like a rag doll before sinking all the way to the bottom of the ocean floor with wide, fearful eyes.

Dean woke up at 2 a.m., wet eyed and cloaked in sweat, before falling into dreamless sleep.


	2. The Newbie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long to add. But it's a bit longer than the last, so enjoy. Again, if there are any inaccuracies just comment. I still love feedback. If you want lambaste the chapter privately, feel free to message me on my tumblr: bangablejesus. I'm going to try and update more regularly from now on.

All too soon, Dean’s alarm clock screamed him into consciousness and he had to roll out of bed to face the new day.

Dean rolled out of bed, eyes still blurred from sleep and head hurting. The sky was still dark and he fumbled for the light switch, but couldn’t find it before stubbing his big toe on the dresser. He muttered a dark curse, but only half-heartedly. Stumbling down the stairs in still-socked feet, he blindly started up the coffee pot before getting in the shower.

After toweling off, he wrapped the plushy white towel around his waist and followed the intoxicating smell of the caffeine awaiting him in the kitchen. With Sam in college, he had the freedom to walk around in any state of undress he chose. When Sam was at home, he preferred for Dean to exercise some modesty, but when he was alone, he took advantage of the freedom.

When he walked into the kitchen, he noticed something he hadn’t on his first trip of the morning. The shattered beer bottle in the corner. He groaned and heaved a sigh before getting a broom and sweeping up him mess.

After dumping the shard in the trash can, Dean poured the steaming liquid into a mug and didn’t wait before taking a burning sip. The black coffee singed his tongue, but he didn’t care as he continued drinking. After downing a second cup, he put the mug in the sink and threw together two sack lunches before dressing quickly.

One short ride through the dark town later, Dean was at the marina. He got on his boat and checked a few things to pass the time. While his head was buried deep in the front control panel of the pilot cab, he missed the sound of an approaching car. He also did not notice the man who got out and timidly approached the boat as his ride drove off.

The dark haired man stood next to the boat for a minute, scanning the empty docks to check for signs of life. His peremptory search came up lacking so he decided to climb onto the boat. Just as he made it onto the dock with minimal tripping or falling on his face, his hand hit against some nets hard enough to send it spilling to the deck.

Dean started at the sound and, in his attempt to remove himself, smacked his forehead on the hard metal. He stood up and observed the guy while rubbing his aching skull- which only succeeded in spreading engine grease on the top of his face. He couldn’t help but notice how tousled his near-black hair was or the way his blue eyes seemed to pierce into Dean’s green eyes as if he had known him since the beginning of time. He was thin and his clothes were rumpled as if he had slept in them- and the more Dean thought about it, he realizes that was probably exactly what he had done.

“You the guy?” Dean grunted. His voice come out harsher than he had intended and he attempted to soften up and offered him a hand.

“Castiel,” the other man nodded, meeting his handshake with a firm grip that impressed Dean. _For a wiry guy, he’s got a grip._ Dean thought. “You have a little…” Castiel gestured up to Dean’s forehead, almost as if he were about to wipe it off for him. He stopped at the last minute when he saw the shock on the other man’s face.

“It happens,” Dean shrugged with false nonchalance, but his cheeks burned with blush. Dean could feel himself losing control of the situation, so he grabbed a rag and cleaned his face- Castiel couldn’t bring himself to tell the other man he had missed a spot- before introducing himself. “My name’s Dean Winchester, and this is my boat. Let me show you the basics.”

He strode off across the deck and Castiel timidly followed, listening to the onslaught of instructions and information. Castiel began to doubt that he would ever be able to manage working on the boat. But he had nowhere else to go, so he would have to make it work.

“Oh, and you’re going to have to wear this.” Dean grabbed a yellow rain slicker from a row of hooks in the lower cabin. It was the only one spare on the boat and had belonged to Sam, so when Castiel pulled it on over his thick t-shirt, he looked like a banana with an ill-fitting peal.

“How do I look?” Castiel asked, spreading his arms to show the full effect of the get-up.

“Like a million bucks,” Dean smirked as he pulled on his own black overcoat.  “And if there’s one thing you need to know about fishing,” Dean said, concluding the tour. “Is don’t fall in the water.” Castiel’s nose wrinkled in confusion at the statement.

“I feel as though that should be one of the more obvious parts of the job.”

“Well, if your ass falls in the sea, you can bet your sweet virginal britches I won’t be jumping in after you.” Dean smirked at his supposed wit, but was soon one-upped.

“What makes you think I’m… virginal?” Castiel cocked his head to the side in a measured display of innocence. Dean tripped over his own feet and barely saved himself from falling into the water.

“Let’s get to work.” The words just barely choked out around his blush and sudden coughing fit.

They started into the water and Castiel had no choice but attempt to use the information Dean had just thrown at him. Dean continued to talk as he worked, which slowed him down. Castiel seemed to be absorbing things, but it distracted Dean when Castiel’s gaze would linger on him longer than is normal.

Dean also found it hard to not check out Castiel when the man had to reach up to grab something and his shirt pulled up to reveal a stretch of lightly muscled stomach. Thoughts of how much he preferred a firm but not ripped body muddled his focus away from fishing before he realized that thoughts about his coworker were unnecessary and entirely inappropriate.

However, that didn’t stop the thoughts from coming.

They stopped for lunch after all the nets and traps had been set. They both climbed into the cabin below decks- which was really no more than a short cot, toilet stall, table, and two folding chairs. The table folded out of the wall and when Dean pulled it down it landed with a loud smack on the laminate flooring. Its hinged were rusted and the tabletop was a little dirty due to lack of misuse. Dean usually ate in the pilot’s cab, but there was hardly room for the two of them in there.

They sat down across from one another and began to eat their ham and cheese sandwiches in silence.

Castiel finally broke the dead air by saying, “These are delicious sandwiches.”

Dean knew he was lying because the bread was just shy of stale and the ham was dry but he just said, “Thanks.” The silence fell between them again like a cleaver and Dean scrambled for conversation topics. He was used to the boat being silent and Castiel had disrupted the balance.

“So… where are you from?” Dean asked. It was a lame question, empty of the wit Dean wished he could wield at will. That usually only came at inappropriate times- such as talking to his boss or a cop.

“I was born here but… travelled a bit after school.” Castiel took another bite of his sandwich and that seemed to be all he had to say on the subject.

“So where did you travel?” Dean asked. “Anywhere interesting?” Dean was always interested in hearing about the travelling adventures of other people. He had never been further outside of the Maine borders than where he went on the water and supporting himself and Sam did not give time for vacation.

“Here and there. Nowhere you’d care about.” Castiel deadpanned.

“Dean was shocked at his blunt ending of the conversation, but did not pursue it. He sensed Castiel had gone through some shit recently and probably wasn’t in the mood to chat about the past. Dean was sure as hell there were skeletons in his closet that he wouldn’t want to dig out during lunchtime.

They finished lunch and went back to work. Everything was running smoothly, until Castiel pulled a rope loose too soon, causing a net to fall only inches away from Dean’s shoulder. Dean jumped a mile out of his shoes and shouted, “Shit, Cas!”

Castiel rushed over and put his hands on Dean’s shoulders and began inspecting him for injuries.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize, oh my god,” he spat out in a blur of words. “I didn’t mean to, please don’t be mad.”

“Whoa, whoa man. You’re good. You’re… it’s good.” Dean shook himself-mentally and physically- and amiably slapped Castiel on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.”

Castiel looked deeply into Dean’s eyes as if to check if Dean was really not going to push him overboard. One of his hands did not leave Dean’s shoulder and his gaze became almost too intense for Dean’s comfort.

“Ok, back to work.” Dean said and moved away from Castiel. The man had personal space issues and Dean couldn’t decide what he wanted to do more: widen the space or close the gap. This newbie was intriguing, but odd. His mannerisms were stiff and his words came out awkwardly, as if he weren’t used to be addressed to directly. But he was nice to have around and Dean could see him fitting in well into his working routine on _Baby_.

Later, as they were cleaning up the nets and getting ready to head to the unloading docks, Castiel paused and looked at Dean curiously. “What?” Dean asked, looking at the other man with suspicion.

“You called me Cas earlier.” Castiel stated plainly. Confusion made a wrinkle between his eyebrows that Dean found endearing.

“Yeah, and?” Dean was not in the mood for a chat. He wanted to get the job done and get a beer.

“No one has ever called me that before. It’s like a real nickname.” Castiel’s cheeks flushed red and he looked at the ground. He behaved as if he regretted making the comment.

“Well, it rolls of the tongue easier than Castiel. That’s a hell of name. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before.”

“It is notably uncommon. I was name after the angel of Thursdays.”

“Oh… well that’s a lot to live up to.” Dean said. “I personally prefer to stay unaffiliated when it comes to religion, but if that’s what floats your boat.” Suddenly he realized how stupid that idiom sounded as they sat on an actual boat.

Castiel did not tease him, as Dean expected him to. “My family is religious.” He amended quickly. “Whereas I- am unaffiliated.” Cas shifted uncomfortably as if, despite his lack of religion, he were indulging something embarrassing in confession.

Dean nodded in understanding. John Winchester had never taken his sons to church, having completely abandoned religion after the death of his wife. Dean had made the choice to continue the Winchester traditions of Sundays spent either drinking in a bar or drinking on his couch.

“That’s fine.” Dean said with a shrug. “Sundays are best spent kicked back watching football anyways.”

Castiel smiled and ducked his head. They continued working the rest of the day in comfortable silence. Neither felt a pressure to make conversation and Castiel was catching on quickly so he didn’t pester Dean with many questions.

At the end of the day they were done around the same time Dean usually finished working. Dean was shocked; Cas was new and Dean had heard it takes some new fishermen weeks to do basic tasks. But Castiel was a fast learner and his presence was not the nuisance Dean had envisioned.

“We should head to the unloading dock.” Dean said and steered the boat out of open water. Castiel settled down for the ride on top of some nets with his face facing the wind. His dark hair blew of his face in windswept tangles. After a day out on the water, he had a swath of sunburn across the bridge of his nose and his hair looked fit for a bird’s nest.

Dean knew the way by heart so he took a moment to scrutinize his new fishing partner.

Castiel had an uneven scruff along his jaw, as though he had hurried out of the house without time to shave. The bags under his eyes looked so deeply etched into his face that Dean wondered if the man ever slept, but the bright blue eyes above made the bags less noticeable. However, while his eyes were nothing short of breathtakingly bright, they seemed clouded over and his face looked concerned as he looked over the tranquil waves. His body seemed relaxed on his perch, but his wrinkled brow showed the beginning of what would be a stunning sunset did not have same the effect on him as it did most people. Dean could tell there was a lot more going on in Castiel’s head than he let on.

When they pulled up to the dock, Castiel saw something that made his whole body coil up like a spring. Dean tried to crane his neck to see what could have caused Cas such alarm, but only saw dock workers milling about.

“Is everything alright?” Dean called out to him over the rushing of the wind.

“Yeah it’s just… we have a visitor.” Castiel said, his voice guarded. Dean could tell that was all Castiel would divulge. He wondered if this was going to be a refrain in their working relationship: Cas reaching the cusp of opening up, before slamming the gate and replacing walls.

Dean waved to the crane operator as they pulled up before showing Castiel the steps of unloading the fish.

“This was a good haul.” Dean said approvingly, when the final weight was tallied up. “You did good kid.” He smirked at Castiel.

Cas pushed his shoulder. “Don’t ‘kid’ me. You’re like twenty-five.”

“Twenty-five!” Dean’s hand flew to his heart in mock pain. “I’m only twenty-three. I didn’t realize how badly time had treated my beautiful face.”

“You’re an ass.” Castiel joked with a shake of his head. “Don’t lie to yourself, you’re too old for such blatant untruths.”

Their moment of laughter was interrupted by the sound of a car honking two brash signals. Both men’s heads whipped to the sound. A black car with tinted windows idled in the marina parking lot. It looked familiar to Dean, but he couldn’t quite place where he had seen it before.

“That’s my ride.” Castiel said blushing harshly.

 _Damn he blushes a lot._ Dean thought. _It’s kinda cute_. Dean wanted to kick himself for even thinking it. He was not about to get a crush on this guy he just met as if he were in middle school or something.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Dean put out a hand and Castiel took his hand in a firm handshake. When they let go, Castiel’s fingertips brushed across Dean’s palm, sending shivers down his spine. Dean couldn’t tell if it was intentional, but his neck felt warm with blush- an embarrassing, life-long tendency- at the thought of it being on purpose.

He scolded himself. _Work only relationship. It wasn’t on purpose._

Castiel said, “See you,” before hurriedly hopping over the edge of the boat, almost falling flat on his face.

“Clumsy bastard,” Dean muttered as Castiel walked toward the car, but he didn’t intend any unkindness. Castiel looked over his shoulder and Dean looked away awkwardly, not wanting to be caught staring.

Dean collected his money and looked up as the black car sped out of the lot. Suddenly he recognized the car.

It was the same one Michael Novak had been in just the night before.

During the short ride back to Haven Park Marine the trek home, Dean developed possibly theories for why Castiel had been riding with Michael Novak- or at least in his car. Suddenly he realized how odd it was that Michael had shown such interest in securing him a job in the first place.

Dean considered that maybe Cas was one of the long-lost Novak siblings who had remained hidden from the public eye, but the idea was too preposterous. Castiel was way too… normal to have hailed from that creepy, perfect family.

After going through some bills in the mail and listening to voice mails from Sam, detailing the thrilling approach of exams, Dean crashed into bed, exhausted. Just before drifting into the dark realm of sleep, he resolved to learn more about Castiel and solve the mystery as soon as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p.s. I know the chapter title is cheesy but I'm shit at titles sooo  
> p.p.s. I can't draw for shit so if you want to try sketching them on a boat I would love to see it and post it with chapter updates


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